When Elle came in the next day, Sylar was already standing, pacing restlessly, waiting for her return. As soon as he heard the door he came up to the glass.
"Elle!"
"What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.
"Nothing's wrong, I just have an idea. Bennet was in here, showing someone around--"
"Bob?"
Sylar stopped, momentarily sidetracked.
"Yeah, why?"
"That's my dad."
"Really?" He was genuinely surprised. He couldn't image the balding man's genes could have remotely translated to the goddess before him. Elle nodded.
"He mentioned you. Said you were unbalanced." She smiled his favorite smile, which probably could have also been described as unbalanced. He returned the smile, but remembered his plan.
"Bennet was telling your father about a deterrent system in the glass. They've never used it on me, but he said the glass is conductive.
He searched her eyes, which remained confused for only a second, until comprehension dawned in them and she smiled the smile again. A moment of complete understanding and clarity passed between them, pure and unhindered. Like dancers they moved to their places, Elle kneeling down to eye level, both of their hands, his left, her right, taking respective places on the pane of glass that separated them. They remained poised for a moment, darkened eyes locked, the love of pain clear in their smiles.
"Ready?" she asked breathlessly.
He nodded, not taking his eyes off of her.
The next thing Sylar knew was a pain so complete, so omnipresent that he cried out. Every nerve ending was on fire; it was blinding, deafening, maddening. The force was enough to knock him onto his back, and then the pain ended, leaving every part of him tingling. He lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, then raised his head up to look at Elle.
She looked afraid, worried, for some reason.
"Too much?" she asked timidly. Sylar looked at her incredulously for a moment, then he grinned, let his head fall back, and started to laugh. He laughed and laughed, and soon Elle's girlish giggle, relieved, ecstatic, joined his. They reveled together in their madness for awhile, until Sylar pushed himself off of the ground and walked back to the glass, placing his hand in the same place as before.
"Again, he demanded, staring at his own hand. As soon as her hand moved into place, he locked eyes with her again, determined to keep his focus.
Again and again they did this, their laughter growing more hysterical each time, until Sylar had to crawl back to the glass from exhaustion, forehead pressed against the window, both palms blackened, still laughing tiredly. They didn't speak after that, they just stared at each other, occasionally laughing in respect for the absurdity of the situation. Eventually the call came, and Elle stood to leave.
"Elle?"
She turned to see Sylar forcing himself to stand. She waited, but he didn't think he had the words to say what he was feeling. So he just smiled and nodded, a mute thanks for the pain.